Recuérdame
by chibiMuffin999
Summary: Some domestic fluff with a tinge of angst. Hector and family the night before he leaves for one of his last tours before ... well... you know. (It's a slice of Rivera life, with some hints of what's to come.) I thought Hector deserved a little happiness flashback after the utter shit-storm he endures leading up to and during Coco.
1. Chapter 1

Midsummer in Santa Cecilia was always humid, but this year had been especially sticky. The air was as thick as mud, and the sun beat relentlessly over the red tile roof, cooking everyone inside. The Rivera household had thrown wide every window in the house, trying to coax in a breeze - but the wind stubbornly held its breath and there was no relief to be had.

Coco had been uncharacteristically peevish and grumpy all day, slowly steaming in the heat. She looked positively disgruntled now, standing barefoot in the doorway of her bedroom, thick curls slowly escaping from the two tiny _trenzas_ Imelda had so carefully plaited up for her that morning. Little tendrils went this way and that, frizzing and clinging all over her cheeks.

Hector had already tried to distract his little _princesa_ with a song he was still cobbling together - a silly little ditty that was _maybe_ , _just slightly_ , poking fun at her _mam_ _á's_ stubborn ways and how crazy they made him (both for her, and at her) - but Coco had been too fidgety to listen.  
He didn't dare sing it where Imelda might hear, just in case she didn't find it funny... but Coco was usually a very receptive audience.

"It's too hot, _Pap_ _á_ ," Coco fussed, crossing her plump little arms, then making a face when she realized they too were slimy with sweat. "And sticky!"

"I know, _mi'ja_ ," Hector soothed, looking for Coco's lightest nightshirt in the little dresser beside the bed - the yellow cotton one with the tiny white flowers embroidered on the hem. It was the only one she had that didn't cling in the heat. "I tried to tell the sun that he was making my favorite lady unhappy, but he didn't listen."

Coco pouted, and Hector melted a little. He'd never been able to stand seeing his daughter unhappy.  
"Here, _bebé_ , get changed for bed. I'll get you some more water, and then _Mam_ _á_ will sing you to sleep. _¿Bien?"_

Coco still looked a little mutinous, but after a moment she reached out for the nightgown, and he planted a kiss in her hair as he handed it over.

He was just about to leave to get her the water he'd promised, when little hands reached up, grabbing at his arm and tugging him back.

" _Qué, bebé?"_ Hector crouched down beside her, brushing another escaped strand of hair out of Coco's eyes. "Do you need help with the buttons?"

Instead of answering, Coco threw herself into his arms and clung there. Startled, Hector caught himself before he toppled over, trying not to lose his grip on his Coco in the process. He heard a faint sniffle from the face buried in his shoulder.

"Hey… what's wrong _mi'ja_?"

"Please don't go with Tio Ernesto tomorrow, _Pap_ _á_ ," she mumbled into his neck. " _Mam_ _á_ will be sad…"

They'd had this conversation more than once, and he came closer and closer to giving in every time Coco turned those big eyes on him. One of these days, that little girl was going to steal him from the road... but not tonight.

"I have to, _bebé,"_ Hector soothed gently. "Your Tio is counting on me to help him with the show, and this is how _Pap_ _á_ makes a living. I'll be back soon. You won't even know I was gone."

"You always say that."

" _Ci,_ I know…" He sighed, shifting Coco in his arms. "I know, last time was a long time. But you were so good for _Mam_ _á_ , like I knew you would be. Tio just needed a little more help than usual."

Coco said nothing, just burrowing her face into his neck, despite the heat. Hector rested his forehead against his daughter's hair with a sigh, and gave himself a moment to engrave this in his memory. It'd be a few more months before he'd get to hold her like this again, and he already knew he was going to miss her every day.  
He carefully stood up from the floor, Coco cradled against his chest, and started walking the room with her, humming tunelessly under his breath. He couldn't very well put her to bed like this. She wouldn't sleep a wink, and neither would he.  
From the kitchen, he could hear the dull clinking of dishes in the sink as Imelda cleared up after supper. She'd be wondering what on earth he was still doing in here before too long.

"I have something for you, _mi'ja._ " Hector murmured to the Coco-shaped lump that was nestled up tight against him as they neared her little window for the second or third time. He paused for a few minutes, watching the sky slowly darken into dusk. "It's something very special that I've been working on, and it's only for you. I wanted it to be perfect before I gave it to you. Do you want to hear it?"

Coco sniffled, but she lifted her head and nodded.

"But I'll have to put you down so I can play it right, ok?" Another little nod.  
He felt her fingers detach from his shirt as he gently deposited her onto the faded pink and green coverlet of her bed. She looked so small sitting there, that it was all he could do not to scoop her up again... but then he'd never be able to play Coco her song - and he wanted her to have it tonight.

He fetched his guitar from the hall and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of Coco's bed, propping the guitar up against his leg as he fussed with the tuning keys. He'd kept this particular guitar in peak condition since Imelda had presented it to him on their wedding day three years ago, the beautiful pearl inlay glittering like diamonds in the sun. ...In truth he probably didn't really need to adjust it at all... but this _was_ a very important performance, and it had to be just right.

"I'll sing this to you every night from now on, Coco," Hector promised when he was satisfied, settling in to play. "No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'll always sing your song for you, so you'll know that _Pap_ _á_ 's thinking about you all the time, and missing you like _loco_."  
He closed his eyes and began to strum out the soft chords of a lullaby, letting his love for her spill into the music.

" _Recuérdame hoy me tengo que ir mi amor  
Recuérdame, no llores por favor  
Te llevo en mi corazón y cerca me tendrás  
A solas yo te cantaré soñando en regresar  
recuerdame, aunque tenga que emigrar  
Recuérdame, si mi guitarra oyes llorar  
Ella con su triste canto te acompañará  
Hasta que en mis brazos estés  
Recuérdame  
Recuérdame hoy me tengo que ir mi amor  
Recuérdame, no llores por favor  
Te llevo en mi corazón y cerca me tendrás  
A solas yo te cantaré soñando en regresar  
Recuerdame, aunque tenga que emigrar  
Recuérdame, si mi guitarra oyes llorar  
Ella con su triste canto te acompañará  
Hasta que en mis brazos estés  
Recuérdame"_

"Is that really just for me?" Coco asked, delighted, when the last notes had faded away.

Hector nodded, setting the guitar aside as she wriggled down off the bed and settled herself with a plop in his lap. "Just for you, _mi'ja._ "

"I love it!" Coco clapped, draping herself over his leg to look at her _pap_ _á_ upside down, and giggling. "It's so pretty! Sing it again, _Pap_ _á_ , please?"

Hector glanced at the doorway. He couldn't see Imelda, but she was certain to be standing out there, probably rolling her eyes at him for being wrapped around their daughter's little finger, and trying not to smile... as usual.  
"Once more, but then it's bed-time, _mi amor._ I'll teach you the words, and you can sing it with me, eh?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm going to be hearing that one a lot, aren't I?" Imelda was watching him in the tarnished mirror of her vanity as Hector closed their bedroom door behind him. She'd finally finished tucking Coco in after yet another song and an encore from _Mam_ _á_ a few minutes ago - though she'd had to wait until another three or four rounds of _Recuérdame_ finished up first.

" _Mi amado,_ you were _eavesdropping_?!" Hector feigned shock as he worked on getting out of his half-buttoned shirt. His hair was still damp from the pitcher of water he'd dumped over himself in the courtyard outside, trying to cool off. "I can't believe you would do such a thing!"

"I had to make sure you hadn't dropped dead in there, you were taking so long." She flashed him an unrepentant little smirk as she tugged the last ribbon out of her hair and shook it free to fall in dark waves down her back.  
Hector had to remind himself to breathe at the sight of her - and haloed in the last fading rays of dusk, no less. Imelda was _entirely_ too aware of the effect she had on him, and she used it mercilessly when she chose to.

"I _had_ been hoping to actually spend some time with my husband before he goes traipsing off for who knows how long." Imelda informed him, fingers loosening the collar of her dress as she stood. Glancing at Hector over her shoulder, she let it fall to the floor in a heap. Hector fumbled a button.  
He could see Imelda's smirk widen as she closed their chipped blue shutters, skin aglow in the half-light. He'd never seen anyone fill out a _camisa_ better than his wife, and given that was all she had on at the moment...

" _Dios mio,_ Imelda…." Hector wriggled awkwardly free of the shirt cuff he'd been entirely too distracted to undo properly, before struggling to escape even more uncooperative suspenders - all without taking his eyes off of her. "I didn't think it was possible, but you just keep getting _more_ beautiful..."

"Settle down _majadero_ , you're going to trip." Imelda teased, coming back to help him. She gently smoothed a dripping hank his unruly hair out of the way, and Hector sighed contentedly, leaning into her touch.

Imelda couldn't help herself, she had to kiss him for that. Hector enthusiastically reciprocated, and the next thing she knew she was in his lap disentangling him from his trousers - while he worked her nightgown up and over her head. And then they were at it like teenagers under a curfew, all hands and lips and tangled limbs, tumbling back onto the bed together. Hector might be ridiculous half the time, but he certainly knew how to kiss her until she forgot her own name, Imelda had to admit.  
She tangled her hands in his hair, held on, and let herself forget everything else as well. Everything but this.

* * *

"Now you've done it." Imelda murmured, draping one arm possessively over her husband's chest and resting her head in the hollow of his neck.  
It was still entirely too hot and clammy lie this close, but Hector would be leaving on another tour in the morning, and neither of them was willing to waste what time they had left before dawn.

" _Ay_ , am I in trouble?" Hector teased, tracing his fingertips up and down Imelda's arm. " ...You weren't complaining a few minutes ago."

" 'm not letting you leave." Imelda announced imperiously, pinning his hip down beneath her knee as she curled in tight around him. "You're staying in this bed forever."

"I think there's a flaw in your plan, _mi amor_." Hector pointed out, peppering kisses over her hair until she finally lifted her head to intercept him. The way he looked at her still gave her butterflies. ...Like she was the only woman in the world, and always would be.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's foolproof." Imelda dismissed impatiently, nestling in again. "My plan is perfect. It's decided."

"Do I get a vote?"

"No," came the muffled reply from his collarbone.

"Well... if _mi reina_ commands-"


	3. Chapter 3

Imelda was awake well before dawn, as usual ...but she'd already decided that breakfast could wait today. She laid her head across her arms and watched her husband sleep.

Hector really _was_ ridiculous most of the time, but there was something genuinely beautiful about him that she never quite got enough of. She loved his little smiles, the warmth in his eyes… that he was so gentle and kind with everyone. She loved the way his stubborn hair did as it pleased, no matter how often he tried to smooth it down. Loved seeing his sleepy face surface out of his pillow every morning. She loved him for the doting _Pap_ _á_ he was to Coco...  
...And she hated that he kept leaving them to chase this big dream of his - to play for the world…

Hector had been talking about being famous one day since she'd met him, but Imelda really wasn't sure how much of that was Hector and how much of it was that sketchy _amigo_ of his, pushing the idea. Imelda had never liked Ernesto particularly -though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. He'd had been nothing but charming and polite, the few times he'd deigned to visit the house… But there was just something… greedy in the way he looked at her husband that gave her a chill.  
Still... Hector called him his _hermano,_ and she'd chosen to respect that ...So she'd welcomed De La Cruz into their home like family, whether she wanted to or not.

Imelda wondered idly who her husband was trying to impress, or if he even knew. Did he imagine he needed fame and fortune to keep her attention? Her love?  
If so, he was a bigger idiot than she thought.  
Hector was certainly talented. He had a voice she could listen to for hours, and clever hands that knew just what to do with a guitar. He was an artist, which she respected… but she would have loved him even if he couldn't carry a tune with both hands and a basket to put it in.

Some men were just stupid, Imelda decided with a quiet sigh. There was no help for it. It was just her luck she'd fall head over heels in love with one of them.

"Y're thinking v'ry loud." Hector mumbled, tossing an arm across her waist and trying lazily to tug her closer. " 's t' early for thinking. S'time for sleeping with y'r _marido guapo._ "

"Oh, do I have one of those?" Imelda mused, pushing back the thatch of hair that half covered his face, and pretending to study him intently.  
"Should I tell him about you?"

Hector pouted, face still more or less buried in his pillow, doing his very best to look offended - and Imelda couldn't quite stifle the very undignified giggle that slipped out. She let him pull her in, her poker face failing miserably.  
"So cruel. Heartless, ev'n." Hector whined, coiling his gangly arms around her.  
Imelda tried for _stern indignation_... but the gleam in Hector's eye told her it wasn't working.  
"Might need a lot of kisses to recover from that..."

" _Idiota_." Imelda rolled her eyes fondly.

" _Ci_ , sometimes," Hector acknowledged with a shrug. They were lying nose to nose and he was beaming that big, ridiculous, hint-of-gold grin of his. "But I'm your favorite one, _¿verdad?_ "

" _Ci_." She took his face firmly between her hands and kissed him soundly, until Hector saw stars. "You are definitely my favorite, _amor_."

Hector blinked up at her, heavy-eyed and dreamy when she let go.  
"Ay, if you keep doing that, I might _**just**_ stay here forever…"

Imelda snorted, reluctantly detaching herself from his grip "Don't you go getting ideas _now, tonto._ It's already 8 o'clock. I'm amazed no one has beaten down our door yet, looking for you."

"Eh, Ernesto has _met_ you." Hector dismissed lightly. "I'm sure he'd understand if I needed a little more time to… uh... 'say goodbye'."

Imelda actually considered it for a brief, heady instant. ...But she didn't fancy having that _pelmazo_ actually breaking down the door, especially if they were… busy… at the time. And she wouldn't put it past him. De la Cruz was always impatient to get Hector out of the house and onto the road, almost bordering on rudeness. That man would trample a nun if he thought there was applause to be had behind her...

Instead she kissed the tip of her husband's nose, and firmly removed his hands from her waist.  
"Not today, _amado_."

"Just as well," Hector sighed, finally letting her go. "I do need to be able to walk, to get to the train station."

Imelda flushed pink, stopping cold halfway off the edge of the bed. She turned back, shooting him a scandalized glare. Hector just grinned, completely unrepentant. It shouldn't have been endearing, and yet…

Imelda shook her head.  
"My _idiota_...I guess I'll keep you."

"Well, you _did_ already feed me. Now you're stuck with me." Hector leaned up on one elbow, watching appreciatively as Imelda dressed. "Don't you know, musicians are like street dogs? I'll be following you around forever, now."

"I knew I shouldn't have let you in." Imelda's muffled voice emerged from the faded lavender gingham dress she was pulling over her head.  
She tugged it down into place, and when the skirt was settled just right, turned around expectantly, holding her hair clear. Hector obediently rolled up to his knees and set to work on the little wood buttons that went up the back.

"This one's my favorite," he informed her when he was done, admiring his handiwork.

Imelda leaned over to kiss his cheek, then sat down at her vanity, deft fingers plaiting her hair up into a thick braid with military precision.  
"You say that about all of them," she reminded him absently over her shoulder as she tied the end.

"Do I? It must just be the pretty _senõra_ underneath-"

" _Mam_ _á?_ _Pap_ _á?"_ Impatient little hands pounded suddenly on the door. " _Mam_ _á-a-á?_ _Pap_ _á-a-á?"_

"We're awake, _mi'ja_. Just wait a moment." Imelda called, rolling her eyes as Hector went scrambling for his clothes.  
 _At least he'd learned to get dressed quickly from all that time on the road…  
_ He was still hopping around trying to get his other boot on when Imelda opened the door.


End file.
